A Voldemort Christmas Carol
by Dizzy Wiz Bang
Summary: [COMPLETE,AU] Dumbledore lost a battle. Hogwarts School has fallen and Voldemort has taken over the castle. It’s Christmas and Voldemort is haunted by Dumbledore's curse and gets three visitors, like in Dicken's story, A Christmas Carol.
1. Forewarned

**A Voldemort Christmas Carol**  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling (JKR), various publishers of the Harry Potter (HP) series. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Plot based on 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens.  
  
Summary: [AU] Dumbledore lost a battle. Hogwarts School has fallen and Voldemort has taken over the castle. It's Christmas and Voldemort is the new Scrooge.  
  
**Chapter 1** (uploaded 12/9/03)  
  
Lord Voldemort sat in an armchair in a dungeon level room of Hogwarts Castle. The walls and floor were made of stone, and although fires and candles burnt brightly, the sparsely furnished room felt very cold. Death Eaters in black hooded robes hovered around a table strewn with maps, diagrams, and lists argued amongst each other while the Dark Lord looked on and petted his snake, Nagini, half-curled on his lap.  
  
The knock on the heavy wood door was answered and another Death Eater swept into the room and joined the others at the table.  
  
"Severus Snape," Voldemort hissed.  
  
The potions expert briefly clenched his jaws as he moved urgently to the beckoning. He knelt on one knee and dropped his head, "I'm sorry, my Lord."  
  
"You're late," the hooded leader's red eyes glowed under his hood.  
  
"I had trouble getting away. Bloody Headmistress McGonagall demanded I attend the staff Christmas party this evening. I only made my escape when I finally got the flying instructor thoroughly pissed so she could release her grip on me." The other Death Eaters snorted and hushed each other to listen to their Master berate the late arrival.  
  
"Well, excuse me for tearing you away from the dance floor. You cannot lie to me, Severus Snape, you didn't want to break your tango with the new Headmistress. Now get busy on my invisibility potion and spare the Demiguise hairs. They were very difficult to obtain. I left the recipe on the work bench. You may not leave until all your tasks have been completed."  
  
"Sir, tomorrow is Christmas and I was hoping..." Snape's soft voice faded as anger flashed in Voldemort's eyes.  
  
"My, aren't we a bit of Gryffindor today," Voldemort said sardonically. "What?! Hoping for what? I suppose you want tomorrow off? Damn Christmas, it's delaying my plans. I suppose you all want tomorrow off?"  
  
Nobody said anything, but most of them nodded...barely. Of course, they wanted Christmas off.  
  
"You will all stay until today's tasks are finished. Snape, leave the potion simmering overnight and return tomorrow or suffer my wrath." Voldemort hissed in a high pitched voice which got louder as he went on. Lesser skilled Death Eaters might have suffered punishment at the Dark Lord's wand, but he knew Snape needed his wits about him and steady hands in order to brew the sensitive draughts.  
  
"Yes, my Lord," Snape bowed his head and backed out of the room, hiding his sneer in the shadow of his hood.  
  
As Snape reached the door to leave the room, Lucius Malfoy announced, "Wait, Severus. I'm hosting a Christmas party tomorrow. You're all invited, of course. My Lord, you would honor me deeply if you would grace us with your presence, even if for a moment. I guarantee your safety, of course."  
  
"Lucius, don't tell me you're as sentimental about Christmas as muggles and mudbloods. Humbug! Christmas is a humbug! I don't want to hear any more about Christmas. Do I make myself clear to everyone?" Voldemort's skin tinted slightly as his blood pressure rose, not that anyone could tell in the yellow light of the fires. "I'm going to answer the door. Everyone better keep working."  
  
In unison, everyone droned, "Yes, sir."  
  
When he left the room, Goyle threw out the question, "Did anyone hear the doorbell ring?" They all shook their heads. A minute later they heard the chimes.  
  
Voldemort opened the front door and snarled, "What do you want?"  
  
The stranger at the door removed the hood from his head. As he did, another stranger walked up and stood behind him. The thin wizard in patched up robes began, "Good evening, sir, I hope I didn't catch you at dinner. My name is Remus Lupin, are you the wizard of the Castle?" Lupin held out his credentials, but Voldemort didn't take them. He faintly acknowledged the card with a nod.  
  
"What is it? I'm a busy man," Voldemort demanded.  
  
"I represent the Werewolves of London Society and I am taking pledges for our Christmas Charity Drive. Our mission is to find a cure for lycantropy and meanwhile provide potions to the needy so that they may control their condition during each full moon. Oh, this is my traveling partner, Sirius Black. May we count on your generosity this year?" Lupin held his ledger open and quill ready to write.  
  
The tall wizard with long black hair started his schpiel, "Good evening, sir. I am collecting for orphans and widows who have lost their family members to the war. We provide education, meals, and shelter for wizarding children and jobs for the adults. We keep them off the streets and train them for other jobs if they do not qualify for higher wizarding education so that they do not become a burden to society. May I put you down for 1000 galleons?"  
  
"You may not! I am responsible for creating those damn orphans and widows. Let them die in the streets, what should I care? In fact," Voldemort charmed himself with 'sonorus' so that he could be heard throughout the castle. "I am going to kill the next Death Eater who allows a child to survive his parents in the next raid!"  
  
After removing the sonorus charm, he continued, "And as for you, werewolf, "St. Mungo's is stocked with anti-lycantropy potions. Christmas is merely another excuse to dig into my purse. Humbug, I say. Humbug to Christmas! Humbug to you! Go away and leave me alone." With that, Voldemort waved his wand and slammed the heavy wood door in Lupin's face while his jaw hung open at the rude tirade.  
  
"Close your mouth, Remus." Sirius patted his friend on the shoulder, "Screw him, we'll have a happy Christmas anyway." Remus shrugged and hung his head as they walked away from Hogwarts Castle to disapparate to their next destination.  
  
Downstairs, upon hearing and feeling the reverberation of the front door slamming hard, Crabbe commented, "His Lordship doesn't sound in a good mood."  
  
"Shut up," Malfoy said, "let's finish this. I want to get home in time to approve my wife's party preparations before it gets out of hand. Avery, see if Severus needs help. I want him to have enough time and energy to play bartender tomorrow. I'm looking forward to his Crème de Noël specialty drinks."  
  
Nott added, "Severus makes a mean eggnog, too," to which everyone else nodded in agreement.  
  
o   
  
By midnight, the castle was finally clear of all activity. Voldemort finally sent all the Death Eaters away, Snape and Malfoy being the last to go after proving the potion was stable and ready to simmer overnight. He checked each room for security spells, stopping last in the kitchen for a bowl of mutton stew and stale roll. Nagini was left to her own devices and kept the castle free of mice and other small rodents and birds. She normally was allowed to roam at night as an extra security measure. Voldemort brought his tray upstairs to his room and to eat by the fireplace.  
  
As he walked around the castle, Voldemort kept sticking his finger in his ears and wiggling it around as if to clear his hearing. From the rafters he could almost hear the Hogwarts Choir singing Christmas carols. "STOP IT!" He yelled in the Great Hall, to nobody in particular. "I'll just bet Albus Dumbledore charmed the rafters to produce Christmas carols every Christmas eve. It sounds like something that crazy old muggle loving headmaster would do. STOP IT, LEAVE ME ALONE!"  
  
He finished his bowl of stew with a painful belch, "Ugh, the stew can't be going bad already, it's only 5 days old." After draining the last bit of ale in his mug, he grabbed a blanket off his bed and wrapped it around himself to rest in the armchair until the indigestion passed.  
  
Voldemort had dozed off in his chair when he was awaken by a noise. In the hallway, it sounded like someone was dragging a heavy chain and knocking it carelessly about. The noise had awaken the portraits in the hallway and they were noisily complaining about it. Voldemort threw open the door to his quarters and stepped out into the hallway. "PEEVES! Stop that racket this instant! Dumbledore couldn't rid you from this castle, but I swear on my father's grave, I will!"  
  
Peeves only cackled in response and blew raspberries at the pale bald man with red eyes. Then he proceeded to throw armor about the hallway and chanted, "Visitors are coming, visitors are coming. Ghosts will come tonight."  
  
"What are you going on about, you batty poltergeist? Why are you here?" Voldemort demanded. "Never mind, you're not here. You're a lump of bad mutton, you are! Go away, leave me alone!"  
  
Peeves danced around in circles around Voldemort while dragging his chain and throwing more pieces of armor. "There are ancient spells on the castle which cannot be removed. Certain spells are activated specifically for Christmas!" The colorful apparition flipped upside down and laughed heartily before continuing. "You do not hold Christmas in your heart. You will go through hell tonight, for what was a mere charm to a looney old man with a long white beard whom I shall not name, Albus Dumbledore, will be your curse. MUAHAHAHA!! As long as you occupy this castle you will relive this nightmare every Christmas."  
  
"You will have three visitors tonight. When the grand clock rings one you will be visited by the ghost of Christmas Past. When the grand clock rings two, you will have a second visitor, the ghost of Christmas Present. You will have a third visit from the ghost of Christmas Future when the grand clock rings three. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go read 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens. It's still in the library in the fiction section. It was the Headmaster's favorite book this time of the year."  
  
"Shut up and go away. I know the story, damn it, he read it every Christmas to the students who had nowhere else to go over Holiday break. I put up with it for seven years."  
  
"Fine, I've said my piece. Dumbledore cursed me to say this crap. Have fun tonight." With that, Peeves zoomed away with his chain and armor clanking behind him.  
  
Finally quiet, Voldemort locked his chamber door and turned down his bed without giving Peeves another thought. He pulled the drapes closed around his four-poster and quickly fell asleep.  
  
_To be continued..._  
  
o   
  
Author's Note: Please leave a review. Merry Christmas anyway. I complete my stories. This one will finish before Christmas.


	2. Christmas Past

**A Voldemort Christmas Carol  
**  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JKR, various publishers of the HP series. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Plot based on 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens.  
  
**Chapter 2** – Christmas Past (uploaded 12/10/03)  
  
The Grand Clock struck one o'clock Christmas morning and Voldemort was awaken by a bright light that shone through the dark and heavy curtains around his bed. He rolled over and grumbled, "It can't be morning already, I just went to bed."  
  
"Tom Riddle, get up," came a familiar voice. Where had he heard that voice before, he had known that voice a very long time. Since his childhood, perhaps? Was it from his childhood? He covered his head with a pillow to block the light and the sound. "Tom get out here now or I'll start taking points," echoed the voice from his past.  
  
The dark wizard threw open his curtains and shielded his eyes until the light dimmed. "Finally," exclaimed the voice, "you're as hard to awaken now as when you were a Hogwarts student."  
  
When the beady red eyes finally focused on the visitor, Voldemort sneered, "Dumbledore, I killed you. I saw your funeral and your gravestone. No, it can't be. I'm dreaming this."  
  
"Yes, Tom. I am dead," the former headmaster replied. "But I'm back as a ghost tonight. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, your past. I'm here to show you several previous Christmases."  
  
"This is the curse Peeves told me about, isn't it?"  
  
"I think you're still drowsy, Tom. You usually catch on much faster than this. Put on your robe and slippers, I'm taking you on a trip."  
  
"Oh no you're not," Voldemort stepped back and grabbed his wand. He sent a blast at the silvery apparition. The spell went right through Dumbledore and a large vase exploded behind where the ghost stood.  
  
"Do watch your temper, Tom. Come along now." With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore dressed his former nemesis in a robe and slippers and they apparated to a large fenced yard in front of a run down muggle house. Voldemort looked at his hand, now empty of his wand, then back at Dumbledore.  
  
Dumbledore stood with his back to Voldemort, looking into the window of the house. Inside the brightly lit room, about a dozen children played in front of a Christmas tree. Young Tom Riddle sat cross-legged in front of the fire, staring into it, brooding. Voldemort grudgingly walked up to the window and stood next to Dumbledore. "I'm about six, my first Christmas at this muggle orphanage. I got too old for the other orphanage, too old to adopt." Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling at the joviality and energy of the children.  
  
The kids were skinny and dressed in tattered pajamas. Boys had outgrown the length of their pants and girls gowns were almost up to their knees, but except for Tom, they all looked happy and excited about Christmas. Their caretakers, a plain looking older couple, modestly dressed, called the children over to the piano. The lady sat down at the piano bench with a girl at each side and started playing Christmas carols.  
  
The man tried to get Tom to join them, but his verbal insistence was met with negative responses. He couldn't be bribed with cookies and milk, and the boy broke out of his grasp when he was pulled out off the floor by his arm. Tom dumped himself on the armchair by the fire and sulked with crossed arms and a pouty lip. The exasperated man would not be held up from celebrations any longer and left Tom to himself as he joined everybody in singing Christmas carols at the piano.  
  
When the clock struck midnight, everyone was allowed to open one present each. All the kids tore into their gifts and were excited to receive their second-hand toys and rag dolls. A package was thrust into Tom's hand, which he opened. Despite the tingling in his heart, his cheek twitched as he fought to hide the smile that threatened to creep onto his face. His, by far, was the most unique and prettiest present among all the children, yet he remained the unhappiest. He had gotten a snow globe with a little model of a castle. If you looked close enough, looked like the façade of Hogwarts Castle, with its many towers and windows. Among the falling snowflakes, was a small green figure on a broomstick which flew around and around in the swirl of white.  
  
Each kid came up to Tom to see his present. They were happy and excited for him, but he did not return the emotion. He flashed it briefly to get them to shut up, but then he hid the globe in his hands, sneaking a peek every now and again.  
  
Voldemort reminisced, "I never really appreciated that gift. I only kept it to myself because it was a better than what everyone else got."  
  
o   
  
Dumbledore put his arm on Voldemort's shoulder, "I have more to show you." With a flick of his wand, they seemingly apparated to Hogwarts Castle. It was snowing, but the trees seemed smaller and younger. The castle was a bit smaller, as were the Quidditch stands, seen in the background.  
  
They entered the Great Hall. Dumbledore said, "We can't be seen or heard. Do you remember this Christmas, Tom? This is your third year." The Hall was decorated with a dozen Christmas trees, each dressed in its own theme. Magical snow fell from the ceiling, never reaching the ground. The Great Hall was quite cozy, actually, as the tables and benches were replaces with sofas, armchairs, and coffee tables. Fireplaces lined the walls and were lit, giving a warm glow to the huge room. In the corner, in front of one of the fireplaces, an auburn-haired wizard in purple robes, the Transfiguration professor, read from a book to first and second year students. Students would drift in and out of the hall as they woke up. When the professor finished reading, he called everyone to the big Christmas tree and distributed presents to everyone.  
  
Voldemort looked over at a very young Minerva. She had just started a teaching internship under Dumbledore. "This is the year I got my very own broom, a racing broom."  
  
"Yes. You enjoyed racing against Minerva, didn't you? Look at her. Quite the radiant beauty, isn't she? I remember your grades taking a bit of a beating this year."  
  
"Any excuse to be with her. I got extra transfiguration lessons with her because my grades slipped. It gave me a chance to be alone with her. Same with the broom races." Voldemort sniffed. "It was just a boyhood crush. I got over it."  
  
"Did you?" The ghost tugged on his beard. As he did, the Dumbledore they were watching seemed to look up from his tasks and straight at the pair who were out of place in this time, eyes twinkling as brightly as the fairy lights above them.  
  
"Of course I did. She eventually married McGonagall, a professional Quidditch player. She never loved me."  
  
"There are different levels of love, Tom. She recognized your talents and bought you that broom from her own savings. She took great delight in watching you ride it with such enthusiasm."  
  
"I never knew that." Voldemort's voice wavered, so he kept himself from saying any more.  
  
o   
  
Dumbledore nodded and waved his wand, again. Tom Riddle, in his seventh year, was bundling up to go outside. He grabbed a big package wrapped with Christmas paper and set off into the night chill.  
  
"It's Christmas in 1944. Where are you off to, Tom?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Grindelwald. I was going to beg him to take me as an apprentice in the Dark Arts."  
  
They apparated to a window outside Grindelwald Mansion. On the other side of the window, young Riddle was making his case to the powerful wizard, who sat stone-faced in his armchair. He took Riddle's present and opened it with a flick of his wand. Still visibly unimpressed, he finally offered the young man a seat and a mug of ale while he continued to listen.  
  
"I finally got him to agree to take me," Voldemort recounted. "It took several more visits and gifts, but always gave me something to think about until our next meeting."  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "Did he really give you anything of value?"  
  
"Sure he did," Voldemort answered without thinking. After a long pause, "At least he made me think I did, every time me met."  
  
"He didn't take you until you left Hogwarts the following June."  
  
"Yes, I graduated top of my class and he finally agreed. Except that didn't last long. You killed him only a month later when he sent me on a wild phoenix chase."  
  
"No, Tom. I saw to it that you were otherwise occupied."  
  
"I could have been there to help my master defeat you."  
  
"Ah, but you weren't. I still had hope for you."  
  
"His defeat only made me more determined to delve more deeply into the Dark Arts," Voldemort hissed.  
  
"Unfortunately," Dumbledore's eyes glistened.  
  
"Is there a point to this?" Voldemort demanded. "I've seen enough. Take me home."  
  
"One more stop, Tom. Then my work is done for the evening." Dumbledore said with a wave of his wand.  
  
o   
  
They apparated to Number 4 Privet drive, not that Voldemort was made aware of that exact location. Looking into the window, they found a skinny lady with thin red lips holding a fat baby with a pink round face. There were a pair of eyes, a nose and a mouth somewhere between the mounds of cheeks on Dudley Dursley's face. The toddler kept pulling off the red and green bonnet as a large rotund man with a red face kept trying to snap a picture. Dudley and Petunia were completely surrounded by a wall of toys and children's clothing. The pudgy little boy kept reaching toward the half- eaten Christmas pudding, it was the only thing holding his attention.  
  
In the back, behind the wall of presents, something moved under the pile of discarded Christmas wrappings and cardboard boxes. Vernon Dursley was still trying to get the perfect picture of his son, "Look here Dudders. Say Cheese!" From under the pile of Christmas paper, eighteen-months old, Harry Potter popped out and yelled, "Cheese!"  
  
He fell back on the pile of rubbish, giggling, with shiny bows stuck to his head and mess of black hair. Harry didn't get any presents, but he enjoyed all the colors and lights of the season anyway. He was content to play with the Christmas paper and suck on his old pacifier, which also had a bright green bow hanging from the ring. Dumbledore's Christmas card sat unopened, still in its Hogwarts envelope, on the desk in the corner of the living room. The Dursleys ignored little Harry the same way as they ignored Dumbledore's card.  
  
"Where were you this first Christmas after your powers were diminished?" Dumbledore asked Voldemort.  
  
"I was in the Black Forest of Germany. I had occupied the body of a squirrel and hibernated through the winter." Voldemort's eyes flashed, "Why did I need to see this?"  
  
"You didn't," Dumbledore answered, his eyes moist, "I wanted to see this."  
  
Voldemort rolled his beady little eyes behind the slits on his face that he looked through. Dumbledore waved his wand for the last time and Voldemort awoke in his bed with a start only to find the curtains around his bed undisturbed. He opened them a bit and looked out into his bedroom. It was dark except for the fireplace dim with dying embers. He closed the curtains and exhaled, "It was only a dream."  
  
o   
  
_To be continued..._


	3. Christmas Present

**A Voldemort Christmas Carol  
**  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JKR, various publishers of the HP series. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Plot based on 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens.  
  
**Chapter 3** – Christmas Present (uploaded 12/15/03)  
  
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! "Get up, it's two o'clock. I haven't got all night."  
  
Voldemort jumped out of bed cursing. He stubbed his toe when he fell out of bed tangled in curtains. No matter, his foot was asleep, anyway. But it made it difficult to hobble to the door without stumbling in the dark. He grabbed his wand off the nightstand, ready to hex whoever it was that woke him out of an already miserable sleep. Bright light seeped from between the door and its frame, while behind the door he could hear a deep, deep voice singing a Christmas carol—off key. "God rest ye merry hippogriffs—"  
  
The bedroom door flew off its hinges as Voldemort spelled it open in anger. He was hit immediately by the bright glow that the Ghost of Christmas Present was giving off. The grumpy bad guy shielded his eyes, "Dim the lights, dammit, I can't see."  
  
After a few hearty ha-ha's, "Err, sorry 'bout that, Tom." The huge man hopped off of a thestral and smacked its hind quarters. The black horse with wings galloped out into the shadows and disappeared.  
  
"Rubeus Hagrid, you old bastard. You died protecting your precious headmaster. I suppose you're the Ghost of Christmas Present and you will show me what every body is doing tomorrow."  
  
"Yep, ya know it. I guess seven years 'o Dumbly reading the same story got t' ya. I listened to it another 50 Christmases since you graduated."  
  
"What is the point of all this? Does he really expect that in one night of the year he can change my attitude toward Christmas? Does anyone really think I'm going to go all giddy with the Christmas spirit and pass out toys and turkey dinners to orphans and starving families? Face it, this is pointless."  
  
Hagrid laughed for a good two minutes and swilled a flagon of ale before answering, "Yer an evil git, Tom Riddle. There's no hope for ye. Peeves was s'posed ta tell ya, this is a charm ol' Dumblydore left on th' ol' castle. It's Dumbly's way of retelling his favorite Christmas story every year, even tho 'he's no longer 'round ta read it outta th' book."  
  
"Is there no way out of it?"  
  
"Don' ye worry 'bout it, Tom. The spell is harmless unless there's an inkling of love and caring still in ye. Otherwise yer heart may s'plode outta yer chest an' you'll weep like an ickle baby. No chance of that happening, eh? Nope, the worst you'll suffer is a bad night's sleep and maybe a nasty headache in the mornin'. Let's get started." Hagrid lifted his pink umbrella and whacked Voldemort upside his head.  
  
"OW! Was that really necessary?" Voldemort hissed.  
  
"Nope, I jes' thought I owed it t' ye." Hagrid chuckled. Voldemort glared at the half-giant. They apparated to Malfoy Mansion and followed Severus Snape through the front door as he was greeted by Lucius Malfoy. It was a richly furnished manor, tastefully done, except for all the pictures of Narcissa which covered every wall.  
  
Draco ran down the stairs to the entry hall and shook the Professor's hand. He didn't say anything because the adults continued to talk amongst themselves but Draco bounced from one foot to the other as if he had to go to the bathroom. Lucius held his hand out to show Snape to the dining room. Before leaving Draco's company, Snape roughly shoved a large package, covered with black tissue wrapper, into Draco's chest without saying a word to him. Draco clutched the box to his body and ran half way up the stairs before turning around and yelling his thanks.  
  
Lucius announce, "Now that we're all here, how about a game of Hex the Troll?"  
  
"Excuse me while I go mix the eggnog," Snape joined Bellatrix and Narcissa behind the punchbowl.  
  
"You are not excused, Severus. I've put everybody's name in a hat. Okay, this is how it works. In one hat, I have slips of parchment with the name of each guest here. I'll start by pulling one name out of the hat, then I'll pull a second parchment from the other hat. The second hat contains parchments with the names of hexes on it. The name that's pulled becomes the troll and I'll hex the troll with what I pull from the second hat."  
  
"Oy," Gregory Goyle's father asked, "what if you don't know the hex?"  
  
"Then you miss your turn. Plain and simple." Malfoy replied.  
  
Voldemort snarled, "Death Eater, you had better know the hex."  
  
Peter Pettigrew raised his silver hand, "How long is the hex going to last on the troll?"  
  
"As long as it says on the slip of paper," Malfoy stated. "Is everybody ready?" He got a mediocre response among shrugs and rolled eyes. "Is that the best you can muster? Perhaps I should tell you the catch."  
  
"You'd better, Malfoy!" came several responses in unison.  
  
"Lord Voldemort's name is in here. If you pull his name, you can hex any body you wish, with what ever spell you wish, for how ever long you wish. Indefinitely, if you dare live with the consequences."  
  
"Wait," Snape called out, "get your eggnog first." Wands were whipped out and glasses of eggnog started flying toward those who summoned them. In another bowl, Snape stirred a green milky liquid, his Crème de Noël.  
  
"Thank you, Severus, cheers," Lucius declared. He raised his punch glass and everyone else followed, "CHEERS!"  
  
Lucius moved the levitating hats to the potion master, "You go first." Snape scowled and put his hand in the hat. "Macnair." Then he reached into the second hat, "must sit under the mistletoe all evening." Snape waved his wand and the mistletoe hovered over Macnair's head. He moved and tried to get away, but it followed him. Pettigrew, feeling the effects after only one cup of eggnog, climbed up on Macnair's lap and started snogging as he was egged on by the rest of the Death Eaters. Snape face wrinkled at his nose at the sight and took a swig of rum straight from the bottle. He grimaced as the burn traveled down the back of his throat.  
  
The hats floated to Macnair, "Dolohov ." He pulled another piece of parchment, "must sing a Christmas carol."  
  
The named Death Eater stood out of his seat yelling, "I will not! You can't make me!" Snape tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a cup of the green milky refreshment. Taking it, he downed it in one gulp.  
  
Macnair pushed Pettigrew off his lap to stand, "Imperio!" He cursed Dolohov. "You will sing 'Wizard Got Run Over by a Reindeer.'" Snape rolled his eyes and stepped away.  
  
"Wizard got run over by a reindeer, flying home from our house Christmas eve. Oh you may say there's no such thing as Santa, but as for me and Merlin, we believe."  
  
"Finite Incantatum," Macnair ended the spell, "I think that's about all we can stand." After the obscenities and laughter fell, Dolohov picked Pettigrew out of the hat.  
  
"Pettigrew will, let's see, top the Christmas tree for a half hour." Everyone laughed. Snape kept everyone's punch glasses full, constantly shifting his eyes for the next one to empty his glass.  
  
Lucius interrupted, "Okay, but first he must pick his troll and task out of the hat."  
  
The rat animagus picked his parchments out of the hats, "Severus must wear a red Santa costume until he goes home tonight!" This had everyone rolling on the floor with laughter. With a crack from Peter's wand, Snape was dressed head to toe in red, with white trim and a fluffy white beard that would not come off. Snape sneered and cussed as he put the bottle of rum to his lips and half-emptied it down his throat. He wiped his mouth on his red sleeve.  
  
Dolohov lazily charmed Pettigrew into a white robe with wings and stuck the top of the tree up his—um, robe. Pettigrew squealed at the impalement, crossed his arms and glared at everyone as he waited for his time to end.  
  
"Well, Severus, since you've already pulled a name, I'll go next." Lucius bounced over and took Snape's bottle from him. Lowering his voice, he warned his friend, "I think that's enough, you shouldn't drink and apparate lest ye get splinched." Snape dropped himself on a barstool with a scowl and sat in an unfocused daze.  
  
Lucius pulled his parchments, but before Voldemort could hear the next troll, Hagrid put his arm around his old schoolmate. "I've got more t' show ye."  
  
Hagrid waved his pink umbrella and they apparated to the front porch of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Sirius's house.  
  
Hagrid opened the door and they stepped inside. Turning into the sitting room, the portrait of the late Mrs. Black, Sirius's mother, had been touched up. A gag had been painted over her mouth and a white straight jacket had been painted over her black robes. Sirius had draped holly and tinsel over the frame to get her to look more Christmassy. Her eyes burned with anger as she overlooked a dozen orphans playing with their toys next to the Christmas tree. Several adults looked on and quietly sipped their tea, happy for their children, but with a certain sadness in their eyes. Two young mothers rocked their infants on their lap and wiggled little plushy toys in front of their baby's eyes.  
  
Sirius gathered the kids and their mothers into the room from other parts of the house. The kids arranged themselves in front of the Christmas tree. Sirius said, "Okay, just like we rehearsed." He waved his wand like an orchestra baton and they sang their rendition of 'Silent Night.'  
  
The scene faded as Hagrid waved his umbrella again, and appeared inside the dungeons of small castle. Several barred cells lined the hallway as wolves, no, werewolves bayed as if their pain could be relieved verbally. They quieted down as their keeper, Charlie Weasley paced the hallway playing an accordion to accompany him as he sung 'Silent Night.' Music does tame the savage beast. Outside the castle hung a sign "Werewolves of London Sanctuary." They were only kept behind bars during the full moon, otherwise they lived in the castle. If they found paying work, they were expected to contribute to the Society fund.  
  
Hagrid waved his pink umbrella again and they apparated to another castle in the Scottish Highlands. By the pictures on the walls, it had once belonged to Albus Dumbledore. His life-size portrait hung on the wall of the entrance hallway, waving to all who passed. As the two new guests appeared, the portrait subject bowed silently and his eyes twinkled brightly.  
  
"I thought we couldn't be seen nor heard," Voldemort inquired.  
  
"That's Dumbly fer ye. But yer right, we can't be seen by thems who are still alive."  
  
Voldemort wiggled his finger in his ear, "Damn, I'm still hearing 'Silent Night.'"  
  
"That'd be in 'ere," Hagrid walked through a set of double doors, where the school choir sang 'Silent Night' as part of their performance for Christmas feast. Voldemort scowled as he watched Headmistress McGonagall wipe a tear from her eye.  
  
A tired looking Minerva McGonagall sat at the head of the long table and called everyone's attention. She stood up, "Before we tuck in, I'd like to say a few words. Please raise your goblets to the founder of Albus Dumbledore's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He gave his life and his house so that our knowledge, traditions and history may be passed on to future generations. To Albus Dumbledore."  
  
"To Dumbledore," everyone repeated as goblets clinked around the dining room. As they did, a half dozen house elves marched in and set food on the table.  
  
Just then, Harry Potter, stood up and steadied himself with a pair of crutches. He wore the badge of Head Boy. "To Voldemort," he held up his goblet, "founder of this feast."  
  
McGonagall slammed her hand down on the table, "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Potter?"  
  
Voldemort pointed at the skinny teen at the end of the table with a mess of black hair, "He's alive! How can that be? I swear that boy has more lives than a dozen black cats. Tell me o' spirit of Christmas present, do you see an empty seat at this table next year? Is his crutch leaning by the fireplace without an owner?"  
  
Hagrid laughed heartily at the words, "Memorized th' story 'ave ye?" He cleared his throat, "The crutch will be disposed of, as Harry will get stronger and have no need for it. As fer th' empty seat, Harry's graduating in 'bout six months." Voldemort growled at the news.  
  
Potter and his friends busted out laughing. "Professor, I'm sorry. We, the school, I mean, would be eating porridge for Christmas dinner if we hadn't raided the Hogwarts pantry earlier today. It seems Voldemort had a rather bad headache due to an ancient curse that Professor Dumbledore left on the castle."  
  
Everyone stood up and raised their goblets, "To He-who-must-not-be-named," and collapsed back in their seats with a fit of giggles. Harry had his arms around his friends and theirs were around him. They rocked back and forth singing "Jingle Bells."  
  
"See there, Tom?" Hagrid summed up, "No matter how bad th' conditions, people wh' good hearts will always manage to enjoy the season."  
  
Before he could comment, Hagrid waved his pink umbrella for the last time, and Voldemort found himself back in his chambers looking up at the jolly half-giant. "Hagrid, you're looking old. And what is that you have under your robes? Is it a foot or a claw?"  
  
"Yes, Tom, my time on this earth is finished fer th' evenin'. This 'ere boy," Hagrid opened his robes, "is Ron Weasley. Ye know 'im as Ignorance. This 'ere girl is Moaning Myrtle. Ye know 'er as Want. She's always whinin' 'bout sumthin' or 'nuther. Since they are conditions which ye promote through yer actions all year 'round, I'm gonna leave 'em with ye for the rest of the night." He patted the kids on their heads and gave them a gentle shove toward Voldemort, "There ye go, kiddies, there's yer daddy."  
  
Ron and Myrtle ran to Voldemort and started jumping and competing for his attention. He grabbed his head, to cover his ears, "Arrrggghhh, go away!"  
  
Ron snorted, "No way! You killed me in the last battle. Because of you, and your Death Eaters influence, the Ministry continues to ignore the fact that you work to destroy the wizarding world. Between that and your disruption of the education of those who attended Hogwarts, I continue to grow in power and strength. Ignorance is bliss."  
  
Moaning Myrtle laughed a little girly laugh, "Tom, you killed me over 50 years ago with your basilisk. I've been growing moldy in that old bathroom until you took over Hogwarts. Now I'm growing in power and strength too, thanks to you. All those poor children and families on the street, all those poor werewolves, they all want for basic food and shelter. When they get desperate enough, they'll come after you, just as Harry Potter did."  
  
Voldemort sneered, "Fine, you're my children. This is a big castle, Peeve's is hiding somewhere. Why don't you seek him out and tie him up with his own chains." Ron and Myrtle clapped and screeched with glee as they disappeared through the stone wall in search of a new playmate.  
  
Just then the grand clock rang three times. Voldemort rolled his eyes, "I've got another spirit coming that I must see to."  
  
_To be continued..._  
  
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Author's Note: Happy Holidays. I'm changing the category to Humor because I've gone over the edge. Yesterday, several versions of 'A Christmas Carol' was shown on TV and I'm now bordering on insane. If there's a Santa out there, please review my stories. 


	4. Christmas Yet To Come

**A Voldemort Christmas Carol**  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JKR, various publishers of the HP series. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Plot based on 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens.  
  
**Chapter 4** – Christmas Yet to Come (uploaded 12/18/03)  
  
Voldemort waited at the foot of his bed, drumming his fingers on the bedpost when an eerie fog crept in from under the door. His heart skipped a beat as he climbed onto the bed, peering from behind the bedpost. He watched whisps swirl around to form a thin body covered with gauzy material. Lights twinkled off of the spangled shawl as the spinning body slowly came to a stop. "Whew! I thought I'd never stop spinning," said the new voice, "hang on, I'm still a bit dizzy." Her face was thin but with huge glasses which magnified the size of her eyes, which continued to spin around in her head.  
  
"Am I to understand that you the Ghost of Christmas yet to come?" Voldemort snarled.  
  
She had a spooky laugh as she drained the last of the sherry from her wine glass in her right hand. She teetered as she gazed into the crystal ball, which she held in her left hand, for a minute before looking up to answer. In a soft, misty voice, she answered, "Oh, dear, another death. Ahem. Why, yes, I am Sibyll Trelawney, the Ghost of Future Christmases."  
  
"Did I kill you too?" Voldemort asked lazily.  
  
Trelawney hovered two feet above the floor, "I'm quite alive, I assure you."  
  
Voldemort drew his wand and shouted, "STUPEFY!" A bolt of light flew through the opaque apparition and hit the portrait behind her, stunning the horse that stood there. Fortunately Sir Cadogen was visiting a relative in another portrait or he might have taken the brunt of the blast. However, the sudden shout surprised her, causing her to drop her crystal ball and wine glass, vanishing into the floor.  
  
Trelawney put her hands on her hips, "I was warned about your anger. If you had let me finish, I would have told you that it is my consciousness which is here to guide you tonight. I am, that is to say, my physical body is in a meditative state elsewhere. Now come along, we have much to see before I return to my body."  
  
Voldemort threw his hands up and followed her out the chamber doors. Witches and wizards were gathered in the Great Hall. It was a full house. At the place where the headmaster usually sat at the head table, Lee Jordan stood on a platform as items levitated into place. In front of the podium was a sign which read "Hogwarts Charity Auction."  
  
"Witches and wizards, here we have a wardrobe closet once owned by Tom Riddle. What is my opening bid?"  
  
"Two knuts," someone yelled from the crowd. Laughter spread in the large room.  
  
"I hear two knuts, do I hear one sickle? C'mon folks, this is for charity. All of these items for sale today have had their hexes and curses removed by the best Curse Breakers who work for Gringott's."  
  
"One sickle," someone else yelled, again followed by laughter.  
  
"This is appalling! Surely my things are worth more than a mere sickle, even with the curses removed, Voldemort scoffed.  
  
"We stand at one sickle, do I hear two? C'mon folks, I'll throw in a boggart for your new cupboard."  
  
From the back, someone yelled, "Five sickles for the boggart, throw in the wardrobe cupboard." The audience laughter echoed in the great hall.  
  
"Ten!"  
  
"Ten sickles heard, do I hear 1 galleon? Going, going, gone! Sold for ten sickles." Applause filled the room. A Gringott's goblin nodded as the sale was recorded.  
  
A large taxidermy-stuffed snake floated onto the platform. "Ahh, here is a treasure, folks. This snake was once Voldemort's pet."  
  
"Nagini, no, not my Nagini," Voldemort cried out. "Take me out of here, spirit, I can't bear to watch this. Show me some emotion connected with this passing." Upon touching Trelawney's robes, they were transported to Malfoy Mansion, where a party was in full swing.  
  
Music was blaring out the windows, it was deafening inside. Young adults danced in large dining room, which had been cleared of its furniture. Otherwise, the house basically looked the same, except that all the portraits of Narcissa Malfoy which used to cover the walls had been replaced by portraits of Draco Malfoy.  
  
Voldemort leaned in toward Trelawney who had started to boogey with the beat. "What's the occasion?" he yelled over the music.  
  
"Deathday party," she yelled back, waving her arms in the air and bumping him with her hips. She pointed to a poster size group picture. Voldemort sat in his large chair, with Nagini's head in his lap and the rest of her curled under his chair. He was flanked by Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and Rabastan Lestrange, and six more death eaters, all snarling and glaring at the camera with arms crossed over their chests. One at the end, Nott, was giving the finger.  
  
"These are children of my loyal Death Eaters, I take it," Voldemort commented. "Are they mourning or celebrating our deaths?" Trelawney nodded to the music. It was hard to tell if she was paying attention to the question.  
  
Suddenly someone let out a blood curdling scream over by the table. The music stopped and everyone looked toward the punchbowl. "GROG!!!," Vincent Crabbe yelled at the top of his lungs.  
  
Then everyone started chanting, "Glug, glug, glug, glug..."  
  
Gregory Goyle started chugging the spiked punch straight from the bowl until it was empty. He managed to swallow most of it, because his robes weren't soaked in blood red, as one might imagine. "AHHH!" He exclaimed as he slammed the bowl down on the table. He got high fives from Crabbe and Malfoy, as everyone else cheered.  
  
"Spirit," Voldemort yelled as the music started up again, "surely somebody out there is saddened by death. Is there no tenderness? Is there no compassion?"  
  
Trelawney nodded, and gave Voldemort a hug. Feeling suffocated in all the over-perfumed gauzy fabric, he tried to pull out but it was too late. He felt as if he had passed out and recovered only when he was released from the hug. When he opened his eyes, they were in front of a small country cottage. Walking through an ivy covered wall into a plainly furnished bedroom, they found a young man waking from his sleep. He was battered and bruised. Tears ran from the corners of his eyes into his pillow.  
  
Molly Weasley, who was holding his hand, asked him quietly, "Shhh, are you in pain? We'll get something for you. It's okay."  
  
Ginny ran out into the sitting room, "He's awake! He's alive!"  
  
The room darkened as everybody tried to stick their head in at the same time. Molly shushed them and ordered them back out into the sitting room until he was strong enough for one visitor at a time. A long haired, black clad figure walked in with a tray of potions, glaring at anyone who dared look his way.  
  
"Snape," Voldemort hissed, "what's he doing here?" He looked around for the spirit, only to see her peering over Molly's shoulder into her teacup.  
  
Snape was followed by an older redhead, Arthur Weasley, who had his wand drawn and pointed at the potion master's head.  
  
"Harry," Snape sat down at the edge of the bed and spoke softly.  
  
"Severus, is he dead?" Harry asked, obviously straining to be heard.  
  
"Try not to speak. Here, drink this," the older wizard lifted a vial to his lips, but Harry turned his head away.  
  
"Why is Mr. Weasley pointing his wand at you?" Harry whispered.  
  
"Because I am partially responsible for your current state of health. He doesn't trust me. But do you, Harry? Do you trust me?" Snape whispered back. The Weasleys strained to listen to the quiet conversation. Harry nodded and sipped from the vial that Snape held to his lips.  
  
"It's over, then?" Harry squeaked.  
  
"Yes, Harry," Arthur said quietly, "it's all over."  
  
Harry smiled. Snape asked softly, "Why the tears, Harry?"  
  
Harry sniffed as Molly wiped his face. "Because he's gone," Harry croaked. Everyone in the room looked at each other with puzzled expressions.  
  
"He cries for me?!" Voldemort's chest swelled in anger, "My nemesis? My enemy pities me? NO! I will not have it! Show me where I am buried. I must see my headstone. I cannot believe this!"  
  
"And YOU!" He turned to Snape, yelling at him.  
  
"He can't hear you," Trelawney reminded him.  
  
Voldemort ranted on anyway, "You're helping my enemy! I don't care that you are threatened by this, this, this red-headed pencil pushing good-for- nothing bureaucrat! You're a Death Eater, threaten him back!"  
  
"Ready?" the skinny bug-eyed seer asked, holding out her sleeve.  
  
Voldemort held on, as they flew over England. There were other celebrations, some in large buildings, smaller ones outdoors. Owls were being sent everywhere, it seemed the muggles and wizards alike were all partying as if a new era had dawned.  
  
The parade of images slowed as they approached the Ministry of Magic. Fireworks were being shot off over the Thames River. They flew deeper and deeper into the Ministry, past guards, past unspeakables, past many heavy doors, finally stopping in a small, dark, heavily warded room, empty of all but a single glass sphere. There was only enough room for a single person to stand, yet there they were. Just Voldemort and his spirit of Christmas Future, staring down at a glass bubble. Voldemort looked up at Trelawney, "Is that what I've been reduced to?" A smile broke on her face, pushing her cheeks up, and causing her big glasses to rise off her nose. She picked up the crystal ball, which easily fit in the palm of her hand, and shook it up before handing it to Voldemort.  
  
The Dark Lord woke up in his bed with a start, as someone pounded on the front door. In his hand was the snow globe he was given the Christmas when he was six years old.  
  
_To be continued...  
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A/N: Big thank you's go out to all my Santa Clauses. I'll mention your names when I email St. Nick my Christmas wish list. Fantome has been extra good for reviewing another of my stories. This was a hard chapter for me to write, especially after all the fun I had with Christmas Present. To make it extra tough, I caught a nasty cold which clouded my head and my ears have really been pounding like someone was at the front door of a big castle. I know what kind of headache Voldie's going to wake up with. 


	5. Christmas Detention

**A Voldemort Christmas Carol**  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JKR, various publishers of the HP series. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Plot based on 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens.  
  
**Chapter 5** – Christmas Day (uploaded 12/23/03)  
  
Voldemort was awaken by someone pounding on the main doors. He stuck his head out the window. "What do you want?" the dark wizard yelled down. "Stop pounding!" He continued to hear the pounding inside his head.  
  
It was snowing lightly. Snape looked up to the tower window and held his hands away from his body, "My Lord, you ordered me here today. If you'd rather be left alone, I'll leave."  
  
Voldemort yelled back, "Come straight to my quarters." Just then the door clicked open.  
  
The potions expert grabbed the bridge of his nose as he entered the Great Hall and observed magical snow falling from the ceiling and Christmas carols coming from the rafters. He wasn't watching where he was going and nearly stepped on Nagini's tail. He got fair warning when she coiled up and hissed nastily at him. His knock on his master's door was quickly answered.  
  
Voldemort was still in his pajamas, kneeling on the floor holding his head. "Oh, my head. It's pounding so hard I'm hearing church bells. Do you still have headache solution? Not the regular strength, mind you, the one for mega migraines."  
  
"In my potion storage, sir."  
  
"Get it quickly. Come back in less than a minute and I'll spare you the Cruciatus Curse."  
  
Snape's eyes widened, he immediately disapparated to his storage. Ten seconds later, he apparated back, potion in hand. Apparently Voldemort had changed the apparition wards around Hogwarts. "Good man," he grimaced as he snatched the flask from the potion master's yellowed fingers.  
  
"What's today?" Voldemort demanded after swallowing the solution.  
  
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Pardon? It's Thursday," he answered softly.  
  
"No, not that," Voldemort growled, "It's Christmas, isn't it?"  
  
"It is, sir." Snape looked suspiciously at his evil master, "Are you alright now?" Snape started backing out of the room slowly, not allowing his eyes to leave the other man.  
  
"I'm not done with you," Voldemort looked out the window. "Come here." Snape joined him at the window and saw several black robed figures scrambling in the snow. "That would be Harry Potter and his friends coming to raid the kitchens for their Christmas dinner. I saw it in a vision last night."  
  
"And you want me to stop all of them by myself?" Snape raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Shut up and let me finish!" Voldemort pointed his wand at his Death Eater, who immediately dropped to one knee and bowed his head.  
  
"Go into the storage dungeon and get the raiding sacks, the red ones."  
  
"Did I hear you correctly, my Lord?" Snape looked incredulously at his evil master.  
  
"Snape, if you interrupt me one more time before I'm through speaking, I'll hex you into next year," Voldemort said in a dangerous tone. The confused Death Eater only bowed his head in obedience and listened carefully to the rest of his instructions. "Give them their Christmas dinner and get rid of them."  
  
'Alohamora' didn't work, so Dennis Creevey was trying to pick the lock to the kitchens while everybody else hid behind the bushes. Snape opened the door and Dennis cowered behind Harry. "Potter," they all jumped when they heard the deep, silky and all too familiar voice of their snarky potions master, "didn't you get the owl? Christmas has been cancelled." Snape sneered, showing his crooked yellow teeth.  
  
The boy-who-was-almost-a-man stood up to his sarcastic professor. He hadn't grown tall enough to see him eye-to-eye. Nevertheless, he said, "Happy Christmas, Professor. We were just reminiscing about the good old days in Hogwarts castle and—"  
  
"Save your bullshit for somebody else, Potter," Snape spat.  
  
"Let's get this over with. Apparently Dumbledore's Christmas curse has had an effect on the Dark Lord. You will be allowed access to the kitchen, as long as you don't cause any damage to the castle. I take it you didn't think ahead as to how you would carry away your plundering?"  
  
"Uh, no," Harry looked down at his empty hands, then at his companions who, in turn all shook their heads.  
  
Snape thrust a red sack into Harry's chest, "Make it quick, I have work to do." As everybody else filed in, they were each handed an identical sack. They were allowed to take what they wanted for Christmas dinner and they were made to leave immediately afterward.  
  
"Snape, I had a vision last night. Most of it is of no consequence, however, I did have a glimpse into the future. I have reason to doubt your loyalty to me."  
  
"My lord, I have never done anything that you should question my loyalty."  
  
"Not yet, perhaps. You have detention today." Voldemort waved his wand, and instantly, Snape's black billowy robes changed into a Santa suit, complete with belly and fluffy white beard. Snape moaned and tried to take off the hat and beard, but it hurt when he tugged. "Take this big red raiding sack around the castle and fill it with whatever old robes and shoes you find in the old dormitories. You will apparate to Black's orphanage, the one on Grimmauld Place, and leave it there."  
  
Voldemort continued, "You will fill this second sack with food and wolfsbane potion ingredients and leave it at the werewolf sanctuary."  
  
Snape completed his chores and arrived back at Hogwarts, more grumpy than ever. But he checked his anger in the presence of his evil master. Voldemort had already drawn up a sleigh and had thestrals harnessed. "You will drive me to Malfoy's party."  
  
"Please, master, allow me to change into my robes. I am your humble servant. You have my loyalty to the end." Snape bowed his head, "I was caught apparating into the orphanage and made to suffer an afternoon of loud annoying kids who wanted to bounce on my lap. Sirius Black even jumped on my lap and made his Christmas wish." Voldemort snorted at the visual. "Then at the sanctuary, the werewolf Lupin licked my nose! Master, I would rather suffer ten, err five, um TWO minutes of 'crucio' rather than show up at the party dressed like this."  
  
"I am unimpressed, Snape. I saw in my vision that you will have to wear that costume all night anyway. Let's go or I will have you stand in a muggle shopping mall. I don't want to miss the games, I'm looking forward to playing Hex the Troll."  
  
That evening muggles and wizards, alike, were witness to a fat man with a large hooked nose in a red suit and his elf flying over the skies of Northern England in a horseless open sleigh. The Ministry of Magic dismissed the reports as a Christmas hoax, as did the muggle authorities.  
  
_The End_  
  
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A/N: I hope the ending wasn't too lame. I've had three versions and I wasn't happy with any of them. At least it was delivered before Christmas, so Happy Holidays, everyone!  
  
Now I can get back to my other story, Another Chance, where they just had an exciting game of pick-up quidditch: Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Lupin, Tonks, Bill Weasley vs Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco, Vincent Crabbe & Gregory Goyle. 


End file.
